


These Scars Tell A Story

by sergeant_angel



Series: Evil Eyes and Daring Dodos [9]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Hawkeye (Comics), Iron Fist (Comic)
Genre: Gen, and it will be literally nobody's fault but my own, billionaire babies are friends, i have a sinking feeling in my stomach, of danny and kate and elektra and t'challa, that eventually i'm going to write a teamup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2017-03-18
Packaged: 2018-10-07 03:37:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10351452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sergeant_angel/pseuds/sergeant_angel
Summary: Kate Bishop knows all her scars, and she knows the people who gave them to her. Some of those stories are better than others. Some of those people are supposed to be dead, not skulking around New York.(or, reckless billionaire children need to be chaperoned at all times)





	

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm in no hurry to watch the Iron Fist show, but I saw that we could have had [this dude](http://www.imdb.com/name/nm1167985/mediaviewer/rm3231717632) as [Danny Rand](http://www.imdb.com/name/nm1167985/mediaviewer/rm2870873600) and I've been sitting on this since...well, Nazar, tbh. And I felt the need to provide the alternate Danny Rand I've been cooking up now instead of later.

“I have a what?”

“A meeting, Kate. You have those, you know? With clients? Those are the people who pay you money.”

“I don’t remember scheduling a meeting.”

Kamala levels Kate with a glare that would be intimidating if it wasn’t coming from. You know. Kamala.

“When was the last time _you_ scheduled _anything_?”

“Wow, well, that level of hostility in the workplace is not appreciated, like, at _all_.”

Kamala sighs and rolls her eyes. “From the due diligence you did a while back. For the Golden Palm Corporation?”

“Oh, them. I coughed up dust for a week after that job.”

“Right, well, Ms. Knight is here again, and she brought the CEO in, too.” Kamala hesitates, and Kate steps in closer. “He came in looking like he’d been in a commune for the past five years and Misty made him put on a suit.”

“Wait, seriously?”

“It was super weird.”

“God, I hope they don’t try to kill me,” Kate says, more to herself.

“Should I call--?” Kamala’s hand strays toward her phone, and Kate shakes her head.

“Nah. It’ll be fine.” Kate grins at Kamala with a bravado she doesn’t feel at the moment, and heads into her conference room.

Conference room might be a bit of an exaggeration. There’s a large table in it, sure, but there’s also the fridge and the coffeepot.

Knight is there, standing over the CEO apparent of the Golden Palm. He is in a suit, as promised, and looks _incredibly_ uncomfortable in it. Of course, that could also be due in part to the fact that it’s hotter than Satan’s nostril in here. He looks scruffy; his beard tragic, his hair in need of a trim. He looks like a guy who has been trying to  _find himself_ for the past year or like someone trying to hide who he is. Both, maybe.

“Ms. Knight.”

“Kate.”

Kate heads over to the coffeepot and methodically measures out the grounds. “And you’re--?” She tilts her head at the gentleman.

“Da—"

Knight elbows him and the sheer lack of subtlety is astonishing.

“David. David…Bland.”

“Right.” Kate rolls her eyes heavenward for a moment before setting the coffee to brew and taking a seat across from her clients.

Kate notes that Knight’s right sleeve is pinned neatly up. It is, of course, impolite to ask someone who knows how to kill you and where to hide your body how they lost a limb, particularly if that person has paid you a hefty sum of money, so Kate turns her attention to the man.

“What we’d like to hire you for now is a bigger job than before,” “David” informs her.

He keeps tugging at the cuffs of a well-made suit, sneaking a glance at Knight and shucking his jacket—

His shirt appears to be well made but not for him. It’s too small; he looks one wrong move away from busting the sleeves open at the seams. Kate can sympathize; she tends to be to muscley for off-the-rack business wear anymore. She’s about to recommend her tailor to him, but—

Kate feels a frown crease her face. There’s something about this guy. She can’t put her finger on it, not yet.

Three things happen in almost the same instant that make things clearer.

First, the coffee finishes brewing.

Second, Knight says, “We want you to do some digging at the Rand Corporation.”

And, finally, “David Bland” rolls up his sleeves, giving in to the fiery inferno of Kate’s A/C failure, starting with his left sleeve, revealing a very long scar along his forearm.

What the everloving _futz_.

* * *

_“I’m not helping.” E’s eyes stay glued firmly to her book. She’s in high school; he and Kate aren’t. She’s_ so cool _, or at least she thinks she is. She’s very in to Emily Dickinson right now._

_“Aww, c’mon. You don’t even have the dangerous part,” Kate says in what she probably thinks is a  comforting tone of voice. “E. I’ll buy you jaleeeebi,” she sings the last word._

_“I want jalebi,” he inserts himself into the one-sided argument._

_“Psh. Of course_ you _do. You’re cool. All the cool kids—“_

 _He tunes out the rest of what Kate’s saying. He’s not cool, he’s kind of a nerd. Kate is, too, so her opinion doesn’t count. The only difference is that Kate doesn’t_ believe _she’s a nerd. The innocence of youth._

_He’s a full six months older than Kate, so of course he’s wiser._

_“Fine! I’ll wave the flag or whatever. But you have to at least put on armor or something!”_

_Kate considers this._

_“Yeah, okay, that’s fair. But you have to find it.”_

_“Oh my God,” E says, prompting a gasp from Kate._

_“No swearing!”_

_“I’m going to remember that, Kate, and one day I’m going to give you so much shit for it.” E calls as she vanishes into parts unknown of the Bishop penthouse._

_He hopes she doesn’t go and tell their moms about this. They will for sure not let them do this._

_Kate sighs and takes a seat on her bike. “I don’t get why she’s all worried. We’re_ wearing _helmets. What else does she want?”_

_E comes back a few minutes later, a cookie sheet in one hand and what looks like an old metal garbage can lid in the other. She ties the cookie sheet across his chest and the lid on Kate’s with two long scarves. “This is so stupid,” she mutters. “You’re going to kill each other.”_

_“You’re just jealous because we thought to it first,” he pipes up. “You wanna do it, too, but you can’t joust with three people.”_

_“Whatever, brat. Are you gonna take your places, or what?”_

_The do. Him at one end of the hallway, Kate at the other. He hitches the pool cue more securely under his arm; he sees Kate adjust her broom._

_Elektra heaves another sigh. She’s really a lot more fun when she’s not pretending she’s so much cooler than him and Kate._

_“Ready, Kate?” E asks. Kate nods. “Ready, Rand?”_

_Danny nods._

_“Joust!”_

_He and Kate pedal as fast as they can._

_Their sticks miss each other’s chests, but they scrape painfully down each other’s arms._

_In the ensuing trip to the hospital, he and Kate are forbidden to watch the History Channel unsupervised._

* * *

“Danny?” Kate says it before she can stop herself, staring at the scar running down his arm.

That’s not possible.

Kate is barely aware of running her fingers along her mirror scar, her thoughts a storm of theories—he’s a life model decoy, he’s a plant, he’s a parasite, he’s from an alternate dimension—and suffocating want—life doesn’t give people back, and she’s lost so many—her mom, Danny, Cassie, Elektra, her _dad_ , for all intents and purposes—she doesn’t know what to do. Is she mad? Is she afraid? Is she happy?

Is she—

Getting a gun pointed at her?

Yeah, that last one, for sure.

“Who the hell—“ Knight says, but Danny stands up, in her way just enough that her arm gets pushed to the side and the gun isn’t aimed at Kate.

“Wait, Kate—Kate _Bishop_?” A grin splits his face and he’s practically shoving the table out of the way and sweeping Kate up in a giant hug.

He squeezes all the air out of her lungs, so it takes a minute for Kate to be able to gasp, “Danny, what the hell _happened_ to you?”

So he tells her.

* * *

"Iron Fist?"

"Yeah." Danny looks apprehensive; Knight looks pissed. Probably because it's a bad idea to go telling relative strangers your secret superpower  _good god almighty Danny_. 

"Iron Fist," Kate says again, mostly to fill the silence. "Iron Fist..oh my god. Iron Fist, Golden Palm, you  _nerd_."

“That's what you're taking from this?" 

"You have a magical punching fist. I got that part. I'm a little sidetracked by the wordplay."

"That’s not…unbelievable? To you?”

“Danny, you missed a lot while you were gone…on an alternate plane? Yeah, that’s actually…that’s not that weird.”

“Have you seen Elektra? How’s your family?”

Lordy. This boy saw his parents die and has been presumed dead for fifteen years, and he’s radiating optimism like a nightlight.

“Elektra—she died.”

“What? When?”

“A few months ago.” Kate takes a deep breath. “But you’re alive. Maybe she is, too.”

Danny reaches out and squeezes Kate’s hands. They’re very warm, Danny’s hands.

“This is so surreal. I used to visit your grave. And now you’re here. I just—I gotta ask, dude. What’s with the beard?”

Danny drops one of her hands to tug at it. “I’m trying to lay low. The company…” he trails off without finishing is not-answer. “Why? Is it too much?”

 “Well, it kinda screams ‘I’m trying to disguise my appearance!’ Sorry. Plus, it’s scraggly. Not a good look.”

“Don’t I want it to disguise my appearance--?”

“Yeah, but you don’t want your disguise to go around saying ‘hey, I’m a disguise, look at me!’ You want it to be, look how chill and boring I am. Look away because I’m so normal and boring. That beard says ‘I am trying to hide my face and therefore might be a convict on the run’.”

“I _told_ you,” Knight mutters with the sort of expression Kate feels in her soul, and Kate has to stifle a laugh.

“You should listen to this woman,” Kate reprimands him. “I’m assuming you pay her to keep you alive since she has a gun and you are alive.”

Danny looks offended. “Did I not just _tell_ you about studying—“

“In K’un L’un, I got that part. You did not study the art of Uber or how to play Candy Crush or Sokovian Accords or Steve Rogers being alive and well or how to read Bucky Barnes’ poker face.” Kate pauses. “Okay, that last one might just be me.”

Danny looks a bit crestfallen and Kate feels like she kicked a puppy. “Hey. Don’t worry. I’ve got your back. You’re home.”

“I hope so,” Danny Rand says. “I hope so.”

**Author's Note:**

> So I have no idea if it's actually Rand Corp or Rand Inc or whatever so if you know and it bothers you let me know so I can correct it.  
> Does this feel like two separate fics spliced together whoops that's because it is.  
> I'm sorry you guys deserve better but I am just worn out so you get half-baked ideas.  
> I hope, like other uncooked things, cookie dough, for instance, they taste good and don't give you salmonella.


End file.
